


Lizzy Pasta Is Doing Her Best

by qDiva



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Baseball, Core Mechanics (Blaseball Team), Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 19:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qDiva/pseuds/qDiva
Summary: It’s the first day of the season and Mechs pitcher Lizzy Pasta is not having a good time, but maybe a heart-to-heart with a friend can help.





	Lizzy Pasta Is Doing Her Best

The San Francisco Lovers got five runs in the first inning and they’re still going. Six. Eight. Suddenly ten. The Core Mechanics have nothing. It’s the first day of the season and Mechs pitcher Lizzy Pasta is not having a good time. She brushes some marinara out of her angelic hair. It’s as red as her face is right now. Looking down at her pasta cannon as she walks off the mound, she wonders if maybe her colleagues were right to doubt her. 

“You know that I love you, Elizabeth,” Jasper Ji-Eun had said during siesta with their usual gently removed sympathy, “But maybe a pasta cannon should only be for pasta.” They weren’t the only one who seemed doubtful of Lizzy pitching with unmodified kitchen equipment, but when someone has to be the skeptic, Jasper always steps up. 

And they raised some good points. It would be easier to build a small pitching machine, or even to just make the pasta cannon throw faster. But Lizzy’s had this pasta cannon since she was twelve. She’s spent years calibrating it to cook the perfect bowl of pasta instantly, every single time. How could she risk upsetting such a delicate balance just to throw a blaseball a little faster?

Lizzy takes notes in the dugout. She's been trying for some time to calculate the right arc to move her arm in while she fires the ball from the cannon. If her pitch has to be slow, she might as well make it a knuckleball. She's practiced late into the night for weeks but she's nowhere near where she wants to be. Everything seems right on paper.

She writes down numbers and crosses them out over and over again. This should just be a simple geometry problem. Just the force of the pasta cannon, the distance to the plate, the resistance from the wind, Lizzy's height, and the batter's height. All these variables are possible to account for. But how does Lizzy quantify her vibes being suddenly off? How does she predict the exact moment when marinara will drip into her eyes? How does she stop herself stumbling when Milo Brown blows her a kiss mid-pitch? It's all too much.

As she's ready to cry from the frustration, she looks up and realizes the dugout is empty. Indeed, the whole park is empty. No players, no fans. The sun is starting to set and it's clear Lizzy has stayed well past closing time. She sighs and heads for the exit.

She finds Jasper waiting on a bench outside the park, their holographic hands drumming along to the trot beat blaring from their earphones. "Thanks for waiting for me." Lizzy says as Jasper pauses their music.  
"Of course," they say, rising from the bench, "It seemed like you were having a difficult day."

Silence follows as the two climb into Jasper's dimensional drill. The descent will be a long one, not that there's such a thing as a quick trip to the Core anyway.  
Lizzy's trying not to look at her notebook again. No need to frustrate herself further. First she fiddles with the buttons on her pasta cannon, then she adjusts her seat until she's certain every setting is equally uncomfortable. Eventually she turns to her teammate. "Jasper," she asks, "Do you still think I should make a new cannon just for pitching?"  
  
"It is the most efficient thing to do, certainly." Jasper says, "It is helpful to work with tools suited to the job you are doing. I thought you said it was non-negotiable though?"  
"You saw me out there, Jas. I was just totally breaking down. I thought I'd calculated everything but they still ran circles around us. All the geometry in the world didn't win us the game. So maybe it's time to try engineering?"  
“Do you think a faster pitch would have solved everything?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean I am not certain why you fell like that when Brown was batting, but I do not think a better cannon would have changed it.”  
Lizzy blushes. “I got uh… distracted...”  
“Of course.” Jasper smirks, “In any case, you spent the whole siesta practicing your knuckleball and calculating the perfect arc. It might be rushing things to immediately abandon it because one game went badly. Especially if it was not wholly the cannon’s fault.”  
“Weren’t you just telling me I should make a new cannon?”  
“I said it would be the most efficient thing to do.”  
“So wait, what are you telling me I should do?”  
“I am not telling you anything. You should do what seems right to you. I just hope you fully consider your choices before you make a decision.”  
“I just want to do my best.”  
“Elizabeth, you are doing your best.”  
“Ouch.”  
“I meant that as a compliment. You pitched a whole game with the pasta cannon. You struck people out with that knuckleball. Do you remember when the siesta started? The only person you could strike out was Ruffian.”  
“Poor Ruffian.”  
“Poor Ruffian indeed. But what I mean is that you have made progress I did not expect and I am proud of you.”  
“Oh. I… Jas, that means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“You are always welco--” Jasper starts before realizing Lizzy is crying. “Oh no, did you get sauce in your eyes again? Here.” A holographic hand pulls a napkin from the glovebox and offers it to Lizzy. Lizzy takes it and wipes her tears away. “No,” she says “Just… I appreciate you, Jas.”  
Jaspers places a comforting holographic hand on Lizzy’s shoulder. “I appreciate you too, Elizabeth.”

The rest of the ride home is spent mostly in silence, with occasional interludes when Jasper puts an old trot song on the stereo to drown out ringing in their ears. When they feel up to it, they sometimes even sing along. They smile so brightly when they sing. It always makes Lizzy happy to see it.

As Lizzy relaxes, she eventually falls asleep in her seat. When she gets home she will say she had a good day. Even a blowout loss is data to examine and time spent with friends. Lizzy Pasta is doing her best, after all. And tomorrow her best will be a little bit better.


End file.
